“We will be okay”

Happiness comes at a cost and Hope is dangerous. Hope is despising a lonely mind and Happiness is a dream for an aloof heart.

“What’s with you?”

I do not respond.

“Are you okay?” it repeats.

…and I snap.

No, I am far from okay. Okay is a mask everyone purposely makes you wear. I am rammed with tiredness and hatred. I grieve for the happiness that was in me. I am falling apart and there is nothing keeping me together.

“We will be okay,” my reflection in the mirror says.

I stand there, my lips sew shut. I want to scream. Scream at the mirror. At myself. At anything and everything. But I am helpless. I cannot. Parting my lips will hurt. It will hurt to acknowledge and express the truth. I cannot see right through me. I am preserved to the core, and I should be okay with this, but I am not.

I think I need a therapist. But that would make me insane, wouldn’t it? I try everything I can to help myself. I am alone. I sit and force myself to cry but no tears leave my eyes. They are dry and my heart is like an empty can. You can crush it and it will be cacophonic, but not a drop of happiness will squeeze out.

“I understand,” the reflection quotes.

Do you? Then, tell me what to do? Who should I be with? What the fuck should I be doing anyway? Where did I go wrong? Why am I standing on a today that only has despair to speak of? And where will I be tomorrow? Loneliness?

To everyone I know, I have suffered all my life. I have felt lonely every step of my life and nothing ever completed me.

“You can end it, can’t you?”

No, it’ll be escaping the wrongs I have committed. I need my mind to be put in order. And I should endure. I am just so lost. Help me. Guide me.

I punch the mirror and it cracks. My reflection does not wither but stands there with pride, the smile not sinking behind its lips.

“I blame you,” it says.

I blame myself, I repeat.

I just dream of feeling the absurd—happiness. I’m breathing and I know I won’t be okay. I am a bandage to other’s wounds, and I will make through everything. The loneliness and the despair. I just have to get to the point where I will be okay with it. And that is okay.

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